


holy reader inserts, batman !

by splorchin



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: (maybe), Batkids are guest stars, Batman Imagine, Batman Reader insert, Bruce Wayne Imagine, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne x Female!Reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I headcanon bruce as bi sorry its mentioned, Multi, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Slow Burn, batman gets a fucking hug, batmom ?, mental health tw, nobody hugs him ???, read all the chapters or you'll get lost, technically friends to strangers to friends to lovers to sexual partners but fuck technicality right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-11-15 08:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splorchin/pseuds/splorchin
Summary: The excruciating journey of how Bruce Wayne finally let down his walls for someone.excerpt: The first few times Bruce had managed to convince himself that it was to protect her, make sure no one had followed him the night they met and weren’t trying to kill her. Only for the second, third, fourth, and fifth time did he allow himself to believe that. Beyond then, it might’ve been loneliness. Perhaps a longing? She didn’t seem to cower at the sight of him like most of his enemies did, and she didn’t think less of him for his nightly activities like his friends and family. Strangely, it was as though she understood him. Not that she’d ever explicitly said such. But; it was implied.TLDR;; Bruce meets a woman who's working as a paramedic in Gotham after a shitty battle and eventually falls in love. Cheesy but I promise its worth the read :-)





	1. expectations

**Author's Note:**

> *not gonna add the smut tags but ill post under explicit in case there is. (most likely there will be. I'm not sure how detailed I'm going to make it, but please comment some ideas and/or opinions on the matter) ill note which chapters are smut in the summary if u wanna skip past / skip to it :-)

She was absolutely certain that nobody had ever been in her position before. Her only expectation of tonight was to take out the trash into the eerily quiet backway, and buckle down on her favourite armchair with work and Thai food. She did not expect to find Batman, crippled and soaked in his own blood, lying by the dumpster in which she was attempting to toss the hefty garbage bag. She’d checked his pulse, nearly getting sliced in half by a batarang before he realized she was a civilian and not someone trying to end his life. 

“I’m trying to help,” she’d squeaked, narrowly dodging the blade he wielded between his knuckles. Her hands were gentle, but firm. She was stronger than she looked; she couldn’t have been more than 120 pounds, yet she managed to hoist him up with arguable ease. 

She wasn’t tall like him, his towering figure leaning into her support nearly toppling her. He’d tried to protest, to break free from her iron clutch, but her face was pinched in determination. She refused to let the vigilante lay bloodied and unconscious on the street no matter how much he argued that he would be fine. With the gash in his chest and the dozens of slits in his uniform oozing the red liquid, she could tell he was not, in fact, fine. 

“I can’t go in there.” He’d said weakly. 

Her eyes bore into the blank stare of the cowl. “I didn’t say you had a choice.” 

“Besides,” she started, throwing open the fire escape door and jarring it open with her foot, “nobody comes this way.”  
They guided each other down the hall. He told her when he was about to collide with the walls, and she told him when he was crushing her with his weight.  
An unsteady hand grappled for the doorknob while the other wrapped around the man’s waist and under his arm. 

“Nice place.” He said. Was that a joke? From him, of all people? He must’ve lost more blood than he thought. Her face reddened. The living room was cluttered in folders and take-out containers. 

“I haven’t had the chance to tidy up, You’re a little bit of an unexpected visitor.” At that, he let himself give a sliver of a smile. Unbeknownst to her, the caped crusader had five- and technically more- kids of his own. He was used to the mess. 

“I don’t mind.” 

Seconds later, she insisted he peel off his shirt. With a small amount of complaining and telling her he’d patch himself up at home after some rest, he complied. 

“You’re really stubborn, you know that? It’s no wonder you don’t quit, I guess.” She mumbled as her nimble fingers threaded the needle expertly.  
He was quiet at that comment.

“You’ve done this before.” He noted, grasping the backrest of the couch.  
Her expression contorted in concentration as the needle holders guided the tiny point through his skin. “‘work as a paramedic at Gotham General.” 

“I see.” He wasn’t very conversational. That was fine, she didn’t expect to ever see him again lest she got jumped in a dark alley somewhere. Getting personal was completely useless considering the circumstances. Once the last stitch was knotted, she cut the thread. A pad of gauze was stuck over the wound, and medical tape ripped into neat little strips secured it in place. 

“It goes without saying, but keep that covered.” She told him. 

He just nodded and laid his head back onto the armrest. From that new angle, she could see red trickle down his neck and she winced, pointing at the cowl.

“You’re gonna need to take that off.” 

“No.” His identity couldn’t be compromised, not here. For all he knows, she could be someone attempting to lure him into giving up his civilian alias. 

“If you have head injuries-” She wasn’t quitting. 

“No.” He insisted again.

“Okay then. But don’t come crying to me if you die from cranial hemorrhaging.” Her words were biting, but concerned. He could distantly hear the patter of her footsteps into the small kitchen behind him after he closed his eyes. 

“You hungry?” She asked. 

“No.”

“You sure? Doing all that acrobatic stuff ‘nd fighting off criminals must shoot down your blood sugar. Or is Batman too good for..” She rattled in the fridge for a second. She managed to pull out a container, continuing; “homemade enchiladas?” 

“Depends.” 

“On what?” 

“Who made them?” 

“Me- do I look like I live with anyone else who can cook?”

She paused for a second. He heard her place the container on the counter. “Yes or no?” 

“Sure.” 

“That’s a yes?” 

“Mhm.” 

“I promise you won’t be disappointed.” Seconds later, the whirr of the microwave filled in the silent gaps between their words.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”


	2. unconvinced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> timeskip. 
> 
> bruce keeps coming back. despite every effort _not_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a short chapter. mainly for dynamic relationship development. I'm basing this entire work off a maladaptive daydream scenario so if I'm slow to update its mainly because I've been busy with life and have had zero time for advancement.

He hadn’t meant to grow attached. He was the Bat after all. The dark knight of Gotham. People pleasing was far from the top of his list, but he found himself going back to that tiny apartment over and over. The first few times Bruce had managed to convince himself that it was to protect her, make sure no one had followed him the night they met and weren’t trying to kill her. Only for the second, third, fourth, and fifth time did he allow himself to believe that. Beyond then, it might’ve been loneliness. Perhaps a longing? She didn’t seem to cower at the sight of him like most of his enemies did, and she didn’t think less of him for his nightly activities like his friends and family. Strangely, it was as though she understood him. Not that she’d ever explicitly said such. But; it was implied. 

The sixth time he came, his arm hung limply by his side. He’d taken a fall worthy of a stuntman. Except, for him, the stunts were real, and the repercussions agonizing. 

The window to her apartment was methodically left unlocked. He made it a priority to show up at the same time, on the hour, every time. It was a routine. It calmed him, and made her life predictable. It was easy, comfortable, and he slipped inside the room without a sound. 

Shutting the window, however, sparked her attention. From the steam billowing into the hallway where the measly single bedroom sat, he knew she’d just showered. Rivulets of damp hair soaked the neckline of her shirt, and her pyjama bottoms looked about two sizes too big. 

“Great to see you’ve made yourself decent for guests,” Bruce said feebly. 

“I aim to please.” That tiny, teasing smile numbed the pain in his shoulder for just a second, but then came a frown. 

Shuffling across the floor, her voice became soft. “Dislocated, huh?”

A grunt in acquisition was all she received. He could’ve easily gone home, had Alfred fix him up as he usually did, but somehow he always came back to her. He always came back. 

“Could tell by the bulge above and behind your clavicle. Also, you’re not doing that intimidating ‘hands on hips’ thing you always do.” Her hands glided over the back of his scapula, feeling for the divot in the bone in which his humerus should’ve been nestled. Once found, a hand went to hold his injured arm out, the other to steady his shoulder blade. 

“You think I’m intimidating, huh?” He chuckled, bracing himself. 

A deafening crack of bone on bone was heard. “Not me personally, but I know a few guys who’d shit themselves if they came across you.”


	3. tired.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bruce finally lets off a little weight from his shoulders.

Had she expected for him to come back? Once, let alone six times? Absolutely not. But did she regret it, even a little? She couldn’t say she did. 

She’d been living alone for the longest time, she’d forgotten how nice it felt to not be lonely. Most of the time he came to get patched up. She supposed that _someone_ had to tend to his wounds. She also wondered who’d been doing it before her. 

Other times, he came as silent company. They’d sit together quietly, her working and him cleaning off his equipment. It was a nice arrangement. 

Maybe he got lonely too. Being a vigilante is a tasking job, no matter how mentally prepared someone is. She knew that under that cowl he was a man, a person, a _human_ like everyone else, who had emotions and opinions and thoughts of his own. She was all but prepared to listen, if he ever decided it fit for him to speak anything else than “yes”, “no”, and “ow”. 

It may’ve been the mask, or perhaps just his naturally brooding face, but he seemed abnormally pensive that night. He had nothing but a few bruises, though, so her first aid kit remained in it’s place. Her gentle hands pressed an ice pack to a particularly nasty one just above his waistline, her eyes studying him. The man had winced imperceptibly when the chill collided with his purpled skin. 

“Something on your mind?” She asked. 

As usual, all she got was a soft “no” and an aversion of the eyes. Except this time, he looked back up to face her. His mouth opened as though he were about to speak, but closed. She could tell his eyes weren’t trained on her, but turned to the side in avoidance. 

“They never stop.” He deadpanned. The woman tending to his injury stopped for a second and peered at him, nodding in acquisition. 

“I can put them in Arkham all I want, but eventually they’re all gonna make it out.” His gloved hand went to rub at his eyes through the cowl. 

For a split second, she thought she could hear discouragement in his voice. Where usually it was commanding, deep, and unhesitant, now there was a uncertainty to his words. As though he wasn’t accustomed to expressing how he felt. Which was, in a way, to be expected, as Batman can’t go outright and announce all his inner thoughts to strangers. 

She rested her rear against the coffee table. The ice pack was set down for a moment while his head fell into his hands. 

“It’s the same thing. Over and over. There’s no change. And the worst part is that as much as it _should_ be predictable? It’s not.” Bat faced her, as though seeking her to say something, _anything_ wise that could ease his conscience. 

Although she wished she could reassure him somehow, she knew that nothing she’d say would genuinely sink in. 

His voice got softer. Quieter. “I’m tired.” 

“Of everything?” She supplied, folding her hands in her lap. 

“Yeah.” A sharp intake of breath on his part could be heard. He closed his eyes for just a moment, and the next thing he knew, she was forcing him to scoot over on the couch. Tentatively, almost as though testing the waters, her palm rested on his shoulder. It was the sleep deprivation, he told himself, that made him lean into her touch. Something warm he could rest upon when everything else was frigid. 

“Why don’t you just crash here for tonight?” She asked, gazing into the mask. 

“Maybe I will.”


	4. unfortunate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fem!reader gets injured. it's not his fault, but he'll be damned if he doesn't blame himself after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I decided to do some threatening research about gunshot wounds and the experience. It might not be exactly as described because ive never been shot (and lord jah help me if I do) but it's a compilation of a bunch of victim testimonies :-) 
> 
> Sequel chapter is coming up. Stay tuned 
> 
> ALSO:: PLS LET ME KNOW IF THERE ARE GRAMMAR MISTAKES THANKS

He started coming more often. She wasn’t complaining. He’d also started speaking more. She wasn’t complaining about that either. Batman had an outrageously sick sense of humour. It was good that it paralleled her own. Their nights went from silent, to occasionally talking about their respective jobs, to cracking jokes about criminals’ shortcomings. 

That particular night was a long one. It was barely one in the morning. She’d had to take a shift from someone, extending her stay at the hospital another three hours. She was verging on passing out. She’d trudged to the kitchen, hearing a small _tap tap_ from outside. Her living room window slid open. Although every muscle ached and quite frankly, she was ready to commit murder, her smile was the first thing to greet him. 

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you used the door for once.” She stated, pouring herself a glass of juice.

“Yeah, and have to explain to your landlord what the hell _I’m_ doing here? Not a chance.” 

Ungracefully, he avoided the pots on the windowsill. “One of these days you’re gonna crush my succulents and that’ll be by villain origin story. I swear to god.” 

“It’s your own fault for hoarding these things.” A sly grin was shot at the woman. 

They were rudely interrupted by a gunshot that shattered the glass behind him. Her eyes widened in shock as it narrowly missed her head, lodging itself in the cabinets behind her. She ducked behind her kitchen table, using the wooden chairs as a useless shield. 

“Were you followed?!?” She yelled, adrenaline spiking through her blood. All her limbs were buzzing in preparation for her to bolt. 

“No.” He responded gruffly, rolling across the floor beside her. Bat’s hands gripped her shoulders for a moment. “Just stay here.” And with that, his touch was gone, and so was he. The feeling of his grasp lingered, and all she could do was nod.

Her mind was flaring in alarm. “Someone just tried to kill me.” Despite herself, she let out a loud, fake laugh. “Great.” 

Apparently the sniper on the roof parallel to her’s was nothing but a distraction. Four thuds against her front door had her mumbling a stream of curses that would probably make her grandmother slap her. Luckily, her vigilante friend knew very well what game they were playing. He’d seen the men forcing their way through the fire escape doors. He’d seen them pull guns from their holsters, and he knew they were not adverse to using them if she got testy. 

The second they busted the door off it’s hinges, they came face to face with the dark knight of Gotham. If that didn’t scare them into submission, they had more balls than she thought. 

They were terribly well-endowed, it seemed, as two of the three had the audacity to lunge at her friend. The other one made his way to where she sat, hiding. She stood, fumbling on the counter behind her for a knife. A bullet wound is easily cured, but a knife wound? If she were to twist that in his stomach, there would be several important blood vessels being eviscerated. Not to mention his liver, which would never work the same again. As bravely as she could muster, she held it out in front of her. Her arms shook in anticipation, muscles clenching and unclenching every step closer he took. 

“Don’t.” She said softly, firmly. “I’m a paramedic. I know exactly where to jab. Don’t come closer.” The whole ‘being intimidating in the face of danger’ thing was harder than she expected. They all confirmedly had balls. She had nada. 

“You’re gonna put that down.” He motioned to the blade nestled in her palm. 

Evidently, ‘make me’ was not a wise choice of words. 

It felt like a bee sting at first. As promised, he’d made her drop the knife. Her body had keeled over with the force of impact, eyes blurring white at the corners. For a second, she thought she felt fine- the wound was numb, tingling, almost. But then it hit her. Blood spilled out of the small, gaping hole in her chest. From what she could tell, it hadn’t hit anything else important, but it definitely had hit her lung. All the breath was knocked out of her. She’d squeezed her eyes shut, trying to gulp in air. She couldn’t tell while crumpling to the ground, but she was 99% sure the bullet went right through her. _Exit wounds are good,_ she thought to herself. _No bullet digging._

The logical side of her brain tried to argue that getting shot PERIOD wasn’t a good thing, but her optimistic side said _shut the fuck up, at least you’re still alive_. Her skin felt clammy, and her head was spinning. Her lung collapsed, and with that, she fell unconscious.


	5. casualties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of the reader getting shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, sorry. mainly just as filler. I'm trying my best to write them in character but to show the dynamics of how reader influences him, it's a little ooc. kinda how the new batxcat marriage issues show the more tender side of bruce except its fanfic and selina can suck reader's dick

It was all a blur. Slipping in and out of consciousness on the ride there, and ultimately blacking out when they arrived, she teetered on the brink of point-blank dead. 

And although his stoic attitude easily masked his panic, his breathing was ragged as though he was trying to hold back a flood of tears. 

The wound had been sealed on both sides. Luckily, he was smart, and brought along his league ID cards. Simple plastic squares for both he and Robin. They were taped over the holes to prevent air from escaping, and keep air from entering through the wound. She was well taken care of. The only problem was getting her medical attention quickly enough to save her. 

He could handle getting shot. He could handle his colleagues getting shot. But a civilian? Because of _him_? This was the reason he tried (and failed) to not get involved. There were always casualties. He could accept that. The only difference between this one and every other one would be the loss of his only friend in a _long_ time. Her sputtering in the backseat of the vehicle caught his attention, and he narrowly avoided driving off the side of the road after studying her for a split-second too long. 

“We’re almost there.” He whispered, gritting his teeth together. “Hold on, dammit.” 

The rumbling of the garage door brought her to consciousness once again. He’d given her something for the pain, but he feared the alarm of not being able to breathe would be the thing to send her into sepsis, if she wasn’t already experiencing it. 

“Okay, okay, okay.” He muttered, bracing himself before picking her up bridal style. Bruce called Alfred’s name once, twice, and a third time, at full volume, before setting her down on the cot that lay tucked in the corner of the cave. 

The man had medical training, sure, but she and Alfred were the professionals who knew exactly what they were doing. Pity he couldn’t ask her for advice on how to save her own life. Instead, she perched on the mattress in front of him, trembling in shock. Her face was pale, clothes stained by the liquid that was meant to keep her alive. Unfortunate that the lack of it would be what killed her. At this point, her body had lost more blood than was humanely possible to live without. Albeit, the fact that she was still hanging on, if only by a thread, was incredibly relieving to him. She was stronger than she appeared, in more ways than one. 

His butler rushed to his side, brows furrowed in concern. “Bloody hell.” 

“No shit. Bullet pierced her superior left lung. She’s lost about 2.3 litres, judging by the pallor and time to amount ratio. She’s been in hypovolemic shock for about six minutes.” 

He nodded curtly. “Master Bruce, her blood type.” He’d asked after that, slathering his hands in alcohol cleanser. The older man tugged on gloves quickly, grasping the pair of shears that sat on the tray of surgical instruments beside them. He cut into her shirt around the wound. 

At that point, Bruce had taken off the cowl. His gaze was fixated on Alfred’s steady hands, which were expertly swiping an antiseptic-soaked gauze over the small hole. Blue eyes then bore into his older counterpart’s worriedly. “I-I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

“Fetch me two bags of O-neg, then,” he stated, “and there’s an exit wound, correct?” 

“Yeah.” 

Not another word was spoken between them from the start of the surgery to the final stitch.


	6. author's psa (will be deleted upon posting next chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> psa for those who care

[redacted]


	7. loss.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The second she turned around, he was gone. 
> 
> The only thing left in his wake was a small note taped to the glass with the simple words; _’I’m sorry.’_"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Also filler, because I needed to post since my hospital days. Sorry about the tiny update.

When she awoke, she was met by the same face that had been there as she slipped into her slumber. 

“B.” She’d uttered. It was faint. It was as quiet as he’d expected it to be. But it tore him apart. He felt responsible. He shouldn’t, but he did. He was used to her being strong. Not vulnerable as she was, laying bandaged in the cot, a blanket carefully tucked under her limbs and over her shoulders. Her strength was slowly returning, but not fast enough to ease his conscience. 

“Yeah.” His blue eyes couldn’t be seen through the domino mask, but if they could, she’d see they were crinkled in worry. 

With some difficulty, she tossed back the blanket to expose her torso. “I’m okay. Don’t look at me like that.” She glanced down and away from him for a second to inspect her bandages. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re carrying the guilt of the whole goddamn world on those shoulders.” 

“I’m wearing a mask. How can you even tell?” 

“Magic.” She smiled softly. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” 

“I’ve been shot. My body is in protest, but overall? I’m feeling great. You know. As great as one can feel with a collapsed lung and multiple litres of blood loss.” 

He snorted. “Smartass.” 

“Thanks. And, by the way. Your mending skills are more than sub-par, and I’ll admit; I’m a little surprised.”

“Wasn’t me, but I’ll let him know.” 

“Who?” 

“Nobody.” He remembered his secret identity crisis. He wished he could tell her. But then again, her life would be in even more peril. He couldn’t afford that.

It wasn’t long after; perhaps a few hours and a couple morphine drips later, that she was able to walk. She’d been out for maybe six hours before their brief chat. She’d had plenty of time to recover, in a short-term sense. He dropped her off in the batmobile in the back alley of her apartment. 

“Are you gonna come for enchilada Wednesdays?” She’d asked. 

_’Yes, absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.’_ Was what he wanted to say. But his mouth couldn’t articulate it. 

“Maybe.” Was all she received as an answer. He sped off before she could protest. 

***

She’d waited for him. Every day of that week. She’d sat by her upturned succulents and open window for seven whole nights. 

The eighth night, she was ready to give up. She shut her window. She clicked the lock closed. She was halfway across her living room before she heard his signature tapping.

The second she turned around, he was gone. 

The only thing left in his wake was a small note taped to the glass with the simple words; _’I’m sorry.’_

He stopped coming after that. She supposed the fear of letting her get hurt put some distance between them. While she understood, it stung. 

After awhile she began to fall back into her regular routine. Blatantly she called it her before-Bat schedule, laughing at herself on how much she’d changed her everyday plans to accommodate him. It was stupid, really. A fixation. Nothing more than that.

No more sitting on the couch waiting for someone to show up in the window and let himself in. No more keeping a fully stocked first aid kit in case he got badly injured on the job. No more making extra enchiladas for someone who had no intention of ever enjoying them again. It was bland. He’d brought some kind of thrill, a danger into her life and growing accustomed to letting it go pained her. 

Did she miss him? Sure. 

Did she let the loss affect her? Absolutely.


	8. reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Few second passed before the shrill tone reverberated in her ear telling her she’d been transferred. “Commissioner Jim Gordon speaking.”_
> 
> _“Hey. I’ve got a favour to ask.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excerpt is kinda out of context but the title tells you all you need to know. Reader reconciles. Maybe the slow burn is getting hotter?? Read to find out :-) 
> 
> Also do comment scenarios you'd like to see the fiRsT kiSs occur in because I've no clue

She knew only a few common people between her and the Dark Knight that she could reach out to. Maybe she'd have a chance at getting him back. 

Though, he was never hers to begin with. 

Jim Gordon was one of those few people. She knew, as most people did, that him and the chief of police had a mutual relationship of trust. She also knew that Jim was one of the only people with access to the batsignal. Which, of course, meant summoning him for once. Instead of him showing up on his own terms and being in control of when he came and went. 

She’d spoken with Gordon before. She knew him from several criminal investigations in the ER. They’ve briefly spoken before, if only to discuss a patient’s wounds and assess when they were ready for questioning, but all the same. He was a good man, and at that, the woman rung up the GCPD. 

“Hi,” she started, seconds after the receptionist picked up, “Can I speak to the Commissioner please? It’s important. Tell him it’s about Bat.”

“Right on it. Let me see if he’s busy.” 

“Thanks.” She replied into her cellphone, pacing about her living room. 

Few second passed before the shrill tone reverberated in her ear telling her she’d been transferred. “Commissioner Jim Gordon speaking.” 

“Hey. I’ve got a favour to ask.” 

***

She was told to wait inside, and only come in when Jim told her to on the walkie-talkie. 

Obviously, she did as she was ordered. Her hands were shaking. Maybe in anticipation. Or cold. It was a frigid night. She didn’t know how Batman did it on nights like these. 

“He must freeze his nuts off.” She said to herself, mumbling under her breath. 

_”It’s okay to come out. By the way, I think you should avoid the superhero life for awhile. It’s dangerous, just in case you’re not aware.”_ The commissioner’s voice crackled through the speaker of the small device on her hip. 

She elected to ignore that comment. 

The door was pushed open. 

Her face emerged into the light of the signal. 

“Hi.” She said softly. 

“Hi”, he parroted. 

Her arms crossed against her chest. “So. You’re avoiding me. Little rude, honestly.” Lips pursed for a split-second, she took a few steps towards the masked figure. 

His exhale was loud, exasperated. He was feigning intolerance to distance himself. “I don’t have a choice.” 

It wasn’t working. “Asshole. You had every choice. You just made the wrong one and you’re too proud to reconcile it.”

His eyes averted under the mask. For some reason his heart began to beat a little faster. “Don’t be a child,” came out of his mouth harsher than expected.

“You’re one to lecture me. Do you see what you’re wearing?” She jabbed. 

His jaw clenched at that remark. “Sorry.” She said promptly after.

“I’m not staying.” His voice was firm, commanding. As usual. His left foot stepped up onto the ledge of the roof. Hands grasped his grappling gun. 

“I see you’ve still got that intimidation thing down-pat.” Her lips curled up. Only slightly, but enough that he noticed.

His face crinkled as he caved. “I can’t risk you getting injured again. You nearly died.” He said brusquely, preparing to leap. It wasn’t unlike him to disappear in the middle of a conversation, but he felt betraying when it was her. As though he felt he should hang onto every word she said no matter the cost. That was just adrenaline talking. He’d just nearly been shot himself, and just the _sound_. The sound of the gun brought him back to her. All the blood. The ragged breathing. It flooded his memory in the moment and he could’ve slipped up while deep in thought. He couldn’t afford to _care_ anymore. About her. About what he wished he could do with he-

Her warm hand brought him out of his own head. She’d stepped closer. She’d grabbed his arm and held firm before his feet had the chance to take another step. “That’s my own responsibility. I’m willing to take that risk.”

“I’m not.” 

“I don’t care. It’s _my_ decision. Not yours. Not Jim Gordon’s. I give zero- _and I mean zero_ fucks that you don’t want to put me in danger.” Her voice raised by a few decibels, and he knew, there and then, that she wasn’t backing down. He’d heard that tone before. In Alfred’s voice when he was being scolded. And lord knows Alfred is unbreakable in spirit.

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Because guess what, asshole? You’re my _friend_. And you’re not allowed to say no. Because I know you care, despite that stupid attitude you always give me whenever I start to get mushy.”

He didn’t want to. He was stronger than this, but he grinned nonetheless. It was nostalgic, perhaps. Something about her weakened his will. In the best way. 

“Woman, I don’t know how you’re so persistent.” Bats scoffed, gently tugging his forearm out of her grip. It had softened considerably since the start of her spiel. She was weak too. But he couldn’t decipher why. It wasn’t like she had feelings for him, as he did her. 

“Just… Stop running from me. I’m fucking lonely.” Her eyes were glassy. The light of the batsignal reflected off them, coloured flecks in her irises becoming more evident than before. Not that he noticed. 

“Sure thing. But you know I’m gonna be keeping a _way_ closer eye on you than before.”

“Fair enough. More attention,” She laughed, “that’s only a bonus for me.”

“Okay.” He said quietly. 

“Okay,” she replied.

His stance became more upright, less leaned into her direction. She noticed. “I really do have to go on patrol now, though.” She hesitated to rest her hand on his shoulder as she'd done all those times before in her living room to comfort him. Why was she hesitating now? She'd never acted this way.

“Have fun,” She smiled while pulling away. It made his heart flutter, and she gave him a small salute; “And don’t die.” 

His own mouth mirrored the tiny grin she bore. “It’s unlikely.” 

“Right. And can I expect to see you at home this week?" 

"Yes, absolutely. Wouldn't miss it."


	9. identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reader asks for his identity. things get a little personal. 
> 
> mainly filler, and so i actually have something to post. sorry uwu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls spare me i know this is bad

He’d come back. Again and again. Same window, same time. Same half-smile, same salute as he left. 

Just like before. Just like he used to. In a way, it triggered a deep sense of melancholy in her. Maybe he was acting as though they’d never split, but it certainly felt different. 

Perhaps that was the reason he avoided her touch. The way he flinched when she laid that warm hand on his back like she’d done all those times before, it was the tension between them forcing him to do so. 

She’d wanted nothing more than to pretend like everything hadn’t been ripped from her grasp and haphazardly shoved back into place. 

As it stood, they had taken at least a miles’ worth of steps backward. In the entirely wrong direction, that is. 

“So, busy night?” She’d asked him, through a mouthful of burger, and a sip of shitty fast food brand coke that left a sour taste in her mouth. 

“Not really.” He responded. He didn’t grace her with any more than that. it was odd, his lack of communication. He usually had lots more to say. 

“When am I going to get to know your secret identity?” Was the follow up question. She was curious, to say the least. Yet every time she approached him about it, he shirked her and firmly said ‘no’. 

“I don’t know if you’d see me the same. Might be never, might be tomorrow.” 

That was more than she expected to hear. 

“Oh?” Her mouth opened to release the sound, then promptly shut. It opened once more; “And why would I see you differently, exactly?” 

“Because who I am under this thing,” he pointed at his mask, “is not what you’d expect.” 

“Really? Why don’t you let me judge that for myself?” 

“No.” 

She poked him. “Come on.” 

“No.” 

Again, her finger dug into the flesh of his bicep. “Please?” 

“Maybe another day.” 

“Fine.”


	10. reciprocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here we feel things 
> 
> here we feel good things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff af. irrelevant beginning, but the end is worth the wait.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, for the seventieth time in a row. He’d smashed one of her potted plants, drawing a loud ‘FUCK’ from her lips. 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” he added, as though a dash of materialistic apology was exactly what she needed to hear from him at this point. She was currently sulking on a kitchen chair, head rested on the marble countertop. Her head had made a thud as it collided with the table earlier, causing him to flinch. 

Dirt was strewn over the carpet she’d just cleaned. Shards of glass were also littered around the mess. But that wasn’t all that was on her mind. A patient of hers had died in the vehicle on the way to the hospital. First one in her three years of serving as a paramedic. She was a little traumatized, perhaps. Or maybe it was just frustration of not being able to keep them alive that ate away at her mind while she sat pouting in her kitchen. 

“Are you alright?” He questioned over the petulant sighs that left her mouth.

“B, he died on the fucking gurney.” 

“What?” he asked.

“This is the first patient to die on my fucking gurney.”

He stepped away from the pile of plant, soil, and broken glass. “Right. And you think you’re a failure?” 

“Harshly put,” she said, lifting her head to peer at him, “but yes.” 

“See,” she continued, raising a finger to make her point, “I’ve never let a patient die on duty before.” 

“Is there a chance that you couldn’t have saved him?” 

“Well- yeah, there’s always a chance they’ll die, but my track record is fucked now.” 

He laughed. Harder than he intended, with a shake of the head peppered in as well. “Your track record means more than a man’s life. Good to know your priorities are in order.”

“I’m going to the roof.” She said quietly. 

The roof was their designated ‘quiet time’ area. The sounds of the city interrupted their silence, but it was a peaceful buzz in the background. It was a time where they could just enjoy each others’ company rather than try and talk when neither of them felt communicative.

Which, in Bats’ case, was most nights. His life was more than complicated. His personal identity wasn’t one that was easy to hide. He was exhausted, all the time, every time he came over. But for her? He’d put on a facade. Not to deceive, but to ease her worry. 

She had enough to deal with. Rent, healing from an injured wound, having 23 hour shifts day after day- she was busy. She didn’t have time to spend feeling guilty for taking up his energy. 

It was a good spend of energy, however. It was less of an exhausting task and more of one that made him feel as though he was ready for a soft bed and a good night’s sleep. 

“It’s nice to see you today.” He said softly, as to not disturb the peace. 

“Yeah. I needed the emotional support, myself.” She’d responded, with a hint of a smile. 

“Glad to be of service.” 

Her hair fluttered around her head. It almost appeared as a halo, at one point. He thanked the wind for helping enhance her beauty. 

Her lips looked more reddened than usual. He wondered if she was wearing lipstick, although he was 99% certain that she hadn’t been before. Maybe it was just his own head. His own weakness for her. Giving him ideas.

Making him stand a little closer. 

Forcing him to wrap a protective arm around her shoulders, and nearly sighing when she rests her head on his own shoulder. 

For the first time in forever, he felt close to someone. 

For the first time since his parents’ death, he felt loved by someone. 

And with a gentle hand, leading her face to his own, he reciprocated it. 

Their lips touched, softly, but ungracefully. His head was held at a painful angle, but he couldn’t bear to pull away. Her mouth had been in the shape of a small, surprised ‘o’, but melted under his kiss. 

When they pulled apart, their flesh was a mere inches from each other, and they both exhaled. 

“It would’ve been less weird if you’d have that stupid thing off.” She motioned to the cowl with her free hand. 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Well yeah.”

And at that, he did. 

“Bruce Wayne?” She whispered.


	11. trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff oh my god 
> 
> too much of it 
> 
> anyways, overall, reader and B get personal, and slight playfighting ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please pardon my short ass chapters lmao i just got out of a depressive episode and i'm working my way to full length

Euphoria is described as ‘the experience (or affect) of pleasure or excitement and intense feelings of well-being and happiness.’ Euphoria was contagious, and she was infected. Her heart had never felt more full, more fluttery in the presence of someone. 

For once in her life, she felt as though she was someone’s first choice, and that she was. She was his only choice. Damn, did it feel good. 

She’d only meant it jokingly, to take off the mask. But when he did? Her eyes became saucers. Her mouth flew open. Her face was painted a pretty portrait of shock, and she nearly fell over the ledge of the roof. 

“Yeah. Now you’re going to judge me, right?” 

Her mouth shut instantaneously. “Why would I?” She asked. Her voice was gentle. This was sensitive for him. This was his whole being he was showing her. This was _him,_ on display for her eyes to behold. He was vulnerable, and she had to be tender with his spirit. 

“I’m glad you trust me.” She said. That simple sentence was one of many she could’ve chosen, but seemed to be the right one to ease his worry. 

He didn’t respond. He just stared at his feet, arm tense around her, cowl in his other hand. 

He _trusted_ her. Undoubtedly. Entirely. And she was glad to be on the receiving end of the little emotion he’d had to give. 

“You could’ve told me sooner. I didn’t know I had a billionaire as a friend. I would’ve taken more advantage of it.” 

He scoffed. “You’re typical.” He joked. 

One of the positives of this situation was that she cared for him long before she knew he was rich. She wasn’t in it for the money. She was the one genuine person he’d been interested in. 

“When do I get to see the mansion?” She’d grinned, looking him in the eyes with a joking twinkle adorning her gaze. 

“Someday.” He responded, with a smile of his own. His cheeks hurt when he was around her. Figured, she made him smile a lot more than anyone else ever could. 

“Oh, come on.” She poked at his hip, causing him to flinch. 

He playfully grabbed her wrist and spun her so her back was against his chest. This was the closest they’d ever been. Physically, and otherwise. He held her pinned to himself with that one arm. She didn’t even struggle. She just leaned into the embrace, resting her head against his torso.

“You know, when someone has you in a headlock,” he started, bringing his forearm under her chin, “You’re supposed to try and get out of it.” Her body wasn’t limp, but it wasn’t rigid like a plank either. It was perfectly nestled in his arms. He’d only wished he had more time to spend with her. 

“Yeah? But what if I trust that person with my life?” Her voice was distant as he lost himself in his own thoughts. 

“Then you don’t.” He murmured. 

And with that, a blur of black and grey was all she saw before he was gone. 

He’d be back. 

This time she was sure.


	12. PSA/QUESTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> psa

should i or should i not introduce her to all the children at once, as though bruce has them all at this point, or just dick as a small boy, and do a yearly sort of summary of her life with bruce and add the other kids one by one? 

in short, short or longterm angst? bc you know im gonna make jason die if he's introduced later on and damian too. and we know there'll be lots of cry time so 

DECISIONS EVERYONE. COMMENT PLEASE!


	13. psa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> psa for those who care

might end the work here. i don't have the inspiration to write for this fandom at the moment. sorry to those who have it bookmarked and are eager for more. if i write some more i will let you all know, comment below if you'd like to be personally @ ed in the chapter summary if and when i decide to update.

thank you all to those who've stuck by me on this journey. It's been fun, and i've thoroughly enjoyed writing for you all. ily guys. consider giving me a follow, i'm posting dick grayson x reader and damirae fics soon :-)

**Author's Note:**

> again, comments are welcome, and entirely encouraged. if you have any ideas, please leave a little something and if I use it I'll credit you !!


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